


Music — Tunes — Melodies

by mea_S



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, I'm Sorry, Light Angst, Post-Break Up, discovery?, kind of ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mea_S/pseuds/mea_S
Summary: “It seemed a bit like a break-up, but Eren didn’t want it to be, so he didn’t even acknowledge her as she walked away. Mikasa left, and he didn’t follow.“(Or, Eren has trouble coming to terms with the fact that Mikasa wants their song to stop)
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman/Eren Yeager
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Music — Tunes — Melodies

**Author's Note:**

> Hhhhhhhh yeAh im having a depression-episode right now and so to get through it I wrote this.

He first notices her absence when he’s hungry.

Two weeks after the fight—one week after the breakup.

He always believed that they sort of balanced each other out in their relationship—Mikasa was the part of him he never had, and Eren was a part she never knew she _needed_ —like two things that made a whole. So it’s weird how he’s been going about his life without so much as noticing her absence in seven entire days. But of course, all things must come to an end, and his days of peace soon turned into days of agony.

It’s 7pm when Eren’s stomach growls the first time, 7:38pm when it growls for the third, and by the time it’s 9:03pm, he’s lost track. So what does he do? Make himself dinner, of course.

(During the process, he gets frustrated more times than once—nearly ends up setting the noodles on fire, has to turn off the heat on the stove to just take a seat in his living room to contemplate his life decisions, and accidentally cuts his finger when chopping up the vegetables. In the end, his meal is decent.)

Eren takes his first bite (or slurp) of the noodles, and immediately grimaces.

There’s something oddly insulting about exactly following a recipe step-by-step, only to have it still come out vaguely wrong. Like, all he made was _noodles_ —how can you mess up noodles? Mikasa had made it for him once, and somehow managed to turn dollar store ramen into a delicacy. He tried to replicate it tonight, but must’ve fucked up somehow, because it tastes odd on his tongue; not like Mikasa’s did.

But he begrudgingly makes his way to the couch anyways with his bowl of noodles because this is all he has for dinner and like hell is he going to waste it. So he slurps the ramen up, trying to stuff away how strange it tastes by playing some tv show in the background instead; when he’s halfway through the bowl, his fingers twitch, itching for his phone, but he recoils because he is _not_ going to call her. It’s not like the noodles are _bad_ necessarily—they’re just… different.

They don’t taste like home.

  
  


-

  
  


He notices her absence again after a bar fight.

Four and a half weeks after the fight—three and a half after the breakup.

He makes a mental note to _never_ let Connie coax him into going bar hopping with his college friends ever again, because Eren-plus-alcohol always seems to inevitably lead into a fight. Usually, he’d have someone to pull him away before the whiskey bottles were being used as weapons (i.e. Armin and Mikasa), but he had no such luck today.

He peers into his reflection staring back at him through his bathroom mirror, lighting in the swollen skin swelling over his eyes, bruising slightly. He winces, knowing that it’ll look bad on him, and decides that he needs to find the quickest way to get rid of this black eye as soon as possible. He cracks the door to his bathroom so that it’s ajar, glaring at his reflection as he calls out into the rest of his apartment.

“Mika! Do you know how to get rid of this black eye quickly?” He examines the shallow cut on his cheek, and then peers down at his busted knuckles. Well, fuck. “Mika?” He calls out again when he receives no response. He swings the bathroom door open completely and leans out of the doorway. “Mika…sa,” but then he remembers—he remembers—and finds himself missing her nagging. He wouldn’t be in this situation if she’d been there with him—she would’ve torn him away from the fight before it could even ensue. Alas, no such thing happened.

 _Ah, shit—stop it. She’s gone,_ he tells himself, shaking his head which only causes a throbbing headache.

He turns back to the mirror and frowns at the beaten boy staring back at him. “You are an idiot,” he murmurs to his reflection, raising an accusatory finger to point at his own face. He isn’t sure if he’s calling himself an idiot because of the fight, or because he _dared_ to think that Mikasa would still be with him.

He doesn’t decide to figure it out.

  
  


-

  
  


Slowly, piece by piece, bit by bit, the recollections of what once was comes back to him. Eren wakes up on Saturdays when Mikasa would usually spend the night at his place and accidentally finds himself making two cups of coffee instead of one. He realizes that he’s ended up making an extra cup when he already put three spoons of sugar and creamer into the mug, and decides that since he shouldn't waste it, he ends up drinking two cups of coffee that morning instead of one. (His bowels hate him that afternoon.)

Sometimes, he forgets that she isn’t here. They’ve always been together for so long, so it’s hard trying to force yourself into sudden isolation from the girl who once was your everything (—who might still be your everything). In the evening on Sundays, when she’d usually stop by after work for them to share dinner, he absently finds himself waiting by the door only to realize that she won’t walk in. One night, he accidentally calls out, “do you want to order pizza?” only to turn and find the spot beside him on the couch empty.

He laughs a bit to himself—maybe because he’s insane—and then shakes his head and decides, fuck it, he _will_ order pizza. For himself, that is.

-

  
  


Six weeks after the fight—five after the breakup—is when he starts to wonder _what_ happened. It’s kind of as though he’s shut everything out, and now that it's coming back to him, he’s starting to wonder what happened.

Eren recalls how he’d always wonder why Mikasa had chosen _him._ He remembers a day, early in their relationship, when their bare legs were tangled underneath their sheets and their naked bodies were huddled close together almost as though there were penguins searching for warmth where he had asked, “ _why did you choose me?_ ”

Mikasa hummed questioningly against his chest. It was dark, with the lights off and sun gone, so Eren did his best to try to gauge her reaction to this conversation by the way her body felt against his—if she’d tense up or not.

“ _I mean like, you’re basically a goddess,_ ” he commented, to which she snorted to, “ _and it’s not like you haven’t had boys who loved you before. Even that shitty horse-face liked you._ ”

She hummed again, understanding him now because that’s just how they are—they understand each other. “ _I don’t know,_ ” she answered truthfully. “ _Thinking about loving someone who isn’t you just feels foreign. It’s too complicated._ ” She scooted up so that they were eye-to-eye, and with Eren’s eyes just barely adjusted to the darkness, he could see the sincerity in her expression. “ _Loving you is like listening to a catchy song with a smooth melody. It’s simple why I like it, and that’s why I like it—because it’s simple._ ”

Eren had tossed her words around in his brain, liking the way they sat with him. He smiled.

“ _And you?_ ” She had asked. “ _There have certainly been women who’ve liked you before. Why me?_ ”

Eren hummed in thought, squeezing his arms tighter around her, pulling them impossibly closer to each other as he tested the way his response sounded on his tongue. Finally, he said, “ _because I do. Love doesn’t always have an explanation and most times, it doesn’t need one._ ”

She snorted and smirked. “ _You’re cheesy._ ”

He grinned right back. “ _You love that about me._ ”

He pulled her tight into his chest and she giggled, shaking her head, because she _did_ — _they_ did. They love everything about each other. 

-

  
  


It’s a nice memory to think about, but that’s not what he’s looking for—so instead, Eren remembers six weeks ago.

Mikasa and him don’t fight. Well, they argue and bicker of course, but not once in their lives have they had a fight so deadly like _this_ before.

And here’s the thing—Eren doesn’t like to yell at a Mikasa. As a teenager, sure he did, but he got older and learned the term ‘ _inside voice_ ’ and never raised his voice at her again. But the fact that they weren’t totally screaming at each other during this argument seemed to make it all the most poisonous.

A Monday morning—Mikasa’s morning class was scheduled later than usual, and so she had slept over the previous night after work. Eren was in the kitchen, pulling a carton of eggs out of the fridge when Mikasa had walked into the main room in her spare change of clothes.

Eren nodded a simple greeting and Mikasa nodded back. He took out a bowl, cracked the eggs and whisked then together with some salt and pepper before pouring it into a pan. Then, in the midst of his preparation of making scrambled eggs, she had said it:

“ _I don’t think I like this song anymore._ ”

Eren blinked curiously at her. “ _Hah?_ ”

Mikasa looked at him seriously, and it’s now when he notices the bags puffed underneath her obsidian eyes. “Our _song,_ ” she tried to clarify, though it only left him more confused.

“ _Do you want me to… turn on music, or something?_ ” Eren had asked.

Mikasa sighed tiredly—exasperatedly—is that a hint of annoyance in her tone? “ _Remember how I told you that loving you was like listening to a catchy song? How it’s just nice and simple?_ ”

Eren nodded slowly. “ _Sure. What about it?_ ”

Mikasa looked down, a bit bashful—a bit ashamed—a lot tired. “ _This isn’t simple._ ” She vaguely gestured a hand between them and shook her head. “ _It feels like our song just sort of… it seems like the record scratched, or something. This isn’t nice or catchy anymore._ ” She looked up at him and gave him a desperate look, as though asking _do you see the point I’m trying to make?_

Eren looked up in thought, turning off the heat on the stove as he peered at Mikasa again. “ _What are you trying to say?_ ” He asked.

Mikasa frowned. “ _I think… maybe… it’s time we tried a different tune?_ ”

That’s all he can really remember. He thinks he vaguely recalls laughing at Mikasa’s lame excuse of a pun, only to realize that she _wasn’t_ joking, but that’s about it—from there on, his memory blurs. Did Mikasa cry? He knows _he_ hadn’t yelled, but did _she_? Did she storm off and shut the door behind her? Did he chase after her? He wishes he could recall to feel it again—but he can’t. His brain blocks the memory out, and so after a while, he stops trying to remember.

(He does remember, however, a week later when he had come back to his apartment earlier than usual to find Mikasa leaving with a duffle bag full of her stuff. They stopped, and Mikasa looked a bit shocked maybe, to find him home earlier than usual, but neither spoke up. 

It seemed a bit like a break-up, but Eren didn’t want it to be, so he didn’t even acknowledge her as she walked away. Mikasa left, and he didn’t follow.)  
  


And so he thinks, _ah, that’s what happened,_ and strangely doesn’t cry. Doesn’t even frown. Just kind of keeps staring at his wall clock as the seconds ticked by, as though if he stared hard enough he could turn back time.

  
  


-

  
  


He has lunch with Armin one day when the blond prompts that they should meet up and hang out since it’s been a while. They go to a diner that he, Mikasa, and Armin used to frequent in high school, and he accidentally takes a seat in the booth right next to Armin before realizing that Mikasa isn’t with them and instead situates himself on the other side.

“You doing alright?” Armin asks as they wait for their orders once their waitress leaves.

Eren nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Armin blinks and stares at him like he’d grown three heads. “I mean, about you and Mikasa…” he finally says. “That's kind of… rough, especially since she’s always loved you, even in high school. Just don’t want you to feel too guilty, or anything.”

Eren cocks a brow. “What?”

Armin cocks a brow right back at him. “What?” He asks back, as though he has no idea what he’d just said.

Eren points a finger at him. “What you just said… you don’t want me to feel guilty?”

Armin nods slowly. “Well, yeah. I can only imagine how bad you must feel, since she’s loved you for so long yet you guys-“

“Armin, she dumped _me._ ”

Armin stutters, seemingly visibly surprised by this turn of events. “Wait— huh?”

Eren leans back in his seat. “Yeah. In my apartment; we kind of had an… argument, if you can even call it that. Next week she came by and packed up all her shit from my apartment and I guess that’s that.”

“But she dumped _you_?”

“Yes.”

Armin gives him this incredulous look. “You sure you didn’t cheat on her and she found out?”

Eren outrightly scoffs at his friend. “Jesus, no, Armin! I wouldn’t do that.”

Armin sits back and exhales a long breath. “Huh.” He shakes his head. “It’s just kind of weird to imagine, I guess.”

Eren shrugs and looks over at the waitress as she comes by with their orders. “Yeah, well, don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m sure she’s happy now.”

“And you?”

Eren blinks at his friend. “And I’m… what?”

“Are _you_ happy, Eren?”  
  


-

  
  


He never finds the answer to that question.

-

  
  


Eren doesn’t really stay in touch with a lot of his high school peers for a number of reasons, but he stays in touch with Historia for a few that he’d like to admit. Like, of course, she’s convient—a good friend too! he’s not just using her…—and also, they can relate. Eren has been through a few hardships through his life, and never has he ever been able to emotionally relate to someone as much as he does with Historia.

A reason that he _won’t_ admit to is the one which involves him taking advantage of the fact that Historia is Mikasa’s roommate by their text conversations having recent messages between him and Historia, with;

[ _is she okay?_ ] 

Followed by;

**[** **_yes, Eren, Mikasa is doing okay. You should come talk to her one day._ ** **]**

He waits a bit, letting his thoughts run wild before shaking his head. He clicks his phone off, then doesn’t respond to that last message.

  
  


-

  
  


It takes him four months to cry. 

Sixteen weeks after the fight—fifteen weeks after the break-up, he cries. It seems as though he’s been on the verge of tears for months, but when he wakes up on a Tuesday morning with his hands clasped together, like how he and Mikasa would sleep with their fingers knotted together, that’s his undoing. His breaking point.

He wakes up, stares at his hands, realizes what he’s doing—what he’s trying to replace—and that’s when the tears come.

And as if his tears were all that was needed to provoke what he’s been subconsciously suppressing for months, his thoughts start to come all at once, simultaneously running amok through his mind. He wonders if things would be different if he had chased after her. Maybe if he tried to ask why it felt difficult to love him. Had he been neglecting her? Had she simply just fallen out of love? He wonders if this break-up had been a long one coming, or maybe a sudden turn of events had changed the course of their relationship into something unknowingly catastrophic.

When the tears mitigate before ultimately stopping, Eren sniffs, sits up and bed, and then dashes out of his room. He splashes some water haphazardly onto his face in the bathroom as a way to clean himself up before running out of his apartment, grabbing his keys on the hook by the door before leaving.

He drives in his pajamas all the way to Mikasa’s place, a solid fifteen minute drive from his, and when he arrives, the tears have started to come again. He blinks them away as he climbs the steps to her floor, though he’s sure that his emerald orbs are still glossed over even as he rings the doorbell.

There’s a quiet shuffle of movement, some distant footfalls, and then the familiar click of a lock. Eren’s heart leaps up to his throat as the door swings open, revealing Mikasa on the other side, in all her goddess-like glory, black hair trimmed down to be pixie-length with her onyx orbs wide and questioning.

He chokes back a sob, and opens his mouth, and his next words come out shaky and sort of croaky, but Mikasa doesn’t seem to mind;

“Want to replay our song one more time?”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> im going through loads of inner turmoil right now, if you couldn’t tell


End file.
